Enigma
by Trackhawk
Summary: Who she is, no one really knows. She has no name, only known by her call sign: Lockdown. What she represents though, is far more than just a name can express. She is a beacon of hope for those who have lost their own, truly the best that humanity has to offer, and the best damn chance we have we have at beating this invasion. And me? Well, I've just been assigned to her squad.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, so recently my friend and I were playing XCOM and I took interest in one of his characters he had created.**

**It kind of became another brainchild for me, o I decided to start a small fic about the squad he'd built up.**

**As this is me writing, I will probably be taking a slightly slower pace yet again, so bear with me as a few boring opening chapters will occur.**

**Now enough beating around the bush and onwards to the story.**

* * *

_**Lockdown**_

_**Wednesday, May 14th, 2021**_

**_1900 __Hours_**

_Journal entry 1:_

Hey guy's. Really sorry about the wait, but well, things have been a little weird here for the past month. I'll do my best to catch you up on the recent events around the base.

Firstly, never, and I mean _never_, let anyone convince you that waking up from cryogenically induced sleep, is anything but exceedingly painful.

It's not some long version of a good nights sleep, you don't wake up feeling well rested and refreshed, nor do you feel like you're ready to get up and take on whatever the universe has to throw at you.

No, it's more in line with the feeling you get after drinking a few too many bottles of vodka and then getting into a bar brawl. One where you get your head kicked in a few times and don't get any recovery time.

A severe upset stomach, and few bouts in the bathroom, and a pounding headache or two are considered the "minor" aftereffects of the whole ordeal. Meaning that if you only barf your guts up, end up in the washroom for a few hours, or are forced to lay on your bed while feeling like a sumo wrestler is sitting on your head, you're to consider yourself one of the lucky ones.

The unlucky ones? Well, let's just say I don't envy the janitors in this facility very much, if at all.

Those, however, are simply just the unsung rules of cryosleep. In exchange for a period of time in which your body and mind don't age a second, you get to experience the mother of all hung-over wake up calls as soon as you're pulled out of the tank.

It's a pretty good deal all things considered, except for when you get injured badly.

Now, I'm sure your wondering as to _why_ I'm telling you all this. After all, most of this stuff is common knowledge, thus makes it all inconsequential.

It's because recently, something has changed. Someone new popped up. Someone who apparently either missed the class on cryosleep aftereffects, or just does not want to follow the pre-set rules.

Either way, we'll have to wait and see if this is legitimate, or if it's just some trick being pulled by the other guys.

My bet's on the latter.

* * *

**_Sunday, August 23rd, 2023_**

**_1923 __Hours_**

_Journal entry 236:_

Holy shit guy's. At first I didn't believe what I was seeing, instead passing it off as just someone else trying to pull a tough guy act. Thinking that sooner or later, they would crack under pressure or just let up on the facade.

But as the months and years have worn on, it became harder and harder to deny the reality of the situation.

There was someone who could somehow ignore the rules of cryosleep.

Someone who could simply wake up as if they were merely napping, and be on their way with nothing more than a couple of painkillers and a hot meal.

At first they became an anomaly. A person who everyone simply said was one of a kind and left it at that.

Soon after though, they became an exemplar. Someone who everyone tried to be like. A poster child of sorts.

Now they are an enigma. A person like no one else. Someone truly unique and one of a kind. Someone who everyone continues to look up to, and who all soldiers still try to emulate.

She has become the pinnacle of success, and the symbol of hope for humanity.

Yet she is also a complete and total mystery.

She doesn't talk to anyone. She wakes up, completes the daily training or mission, and then disappears, returning only when it's time for sleep.

No one knows where she came from, or who she was before the invasion.

Nothing is known about her past, her squad, who she answers to, or even what she does on a day-to-day basis.

No one even knows her name, her true rank, her weapons, or really anything about her.

We only really know her face and call sign.

It's a call sign that is known by every solider and civilian. One that signifies hope and hell to be arriving soon. Hope of survival for you, and hell for your current enemies.

The call sign of the best spearhead squad humanity has to offer.

Her personal call sign.

Lockdown


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again****,**

**So this story appears to be rather popular, as it got more reviews and views in the first ****week/day****than my other story. I don't know why that is****,**** but I would like to assume ****it's**** because it is well liked.**

**In other news, I will be continuing with this story for a little ****while****, ****as I find it interesting to write in different style than the one I am ****used ****to. Please let me know if you like the journal entry format or not because honestly, I have no idea if it's a good thing to write the entirety of this in that way yet.**

**This is a shorter chapter and I am sorry about that****,**** but I needed to get the chapter out of the way sooner rather than later.**

**Again remember to Follow, Favorite, ****and/or****leave a review if you like this, as it's really ****is****nice to see what you all think of my stuff.**

**Right****,**** onwards to the story****.**

* * *

**Wednesday, May 2nd, 2024**

**2200 Hours**

_Journal entry 342:_

I live on a planet which has been slowly consumed by a war.

A war that has lasted longer than anyone could have even imagined, caused more death than anyone thought possible, and has pushed humanity to the literal brink of extinction.

It is, has, and continues to be like nothing that we as a species have ever encountered before.

Thinking back all those years ago, back to when they first came for us, I'm honestly surprised we were not wiped out in the first few weeks.

See, when the invasion first happened, most people laughed at the news reports about "Aliens" invading. Instead writing the report off as some comedy skit or prank pulled by the news. Even some world governments though it was a cruel joke played by the larger powers, or some hacked report.

It wasn't until the fatality figures started to make the rounds that people started to pay closer attention and prepare for the attacks that would soon come.

After all, it's hard to ignore or laugh off the news of over five million people being systematically exterminated in a single day.

It has been over four years since that day and yet it seems like it was only yesterday.

The day Humanity found out we were not alone in the universe. The day the largest genocide in human history started.

The day I ran all the way to the recruiting office and demanded they let me join.

It's been a tough five years since that day. A lot of blood, sweat and tears have been shed in the name of training our sorry little asses for the battlefield, and even more will be shed once we hit those damn killing fields.

Are we ready? Probably not, but then I doubt we will ever _be_ truly ready.

There are some things that you simply can't learn in a classroom or from a drill sergeant. Things that you have to learn about through experiencing them, and more importantly, surviving them.

We all know this, which is why the announcement today that we would be shipping off for the front line tomorrow came as no surprise to anyone.

As of tomorrow, I will be assigned to a frontline squad.

As of tomorrow, this war which I have sat on the sidelines watching, waiting to join, will be become mine to fight in.

Am I scared? Of course.

Excited? Yes.

Anxious? Very much so.

Ready to serve my country, no, _planet,_ to the best of my capacity? Absolutely.

I don't know when I'll be able to write again, as free time is mostly going to be sparse, so I'll sign off with this. Winston Churchill once said this:

"_To every person, there comes in their lifetime, that special moment, when they are physically tapped on the shoulder and offered the chance to do a very special thing, unique to each and fitted to their special talent; what a tragedy if that moment finds them unprepared or unqualified for the work which would be their finest hour."_

My name is Drew Crawford, and I have spent five years training to be as prepared and qualified as possible.

I am ready for that moment to come.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello and welcome back ****once ****again readers.**

**So this story has gotten a bit of attention…. Ok a lot of attention. Ok****,**** so Maaaaaybe I'm quite shocked by how much attention it is getting.**

**I honestly can't thank you guys enough for sticking it out through my shitty writing, and how much it means to me to see people come back time and time again to read the stuff I put out.**

**Between life and having to work on two, YES **_**two **_**stories****,**** I have had very little time to sit down and write. Hopefully that all changes soon though and I can get back to writing a chapter every week or so.**

**And as always, don't forget to Favorite/Follow this story ****and/or ****leave a review, as it will help make sure I continue to write in the future.**

**RIGHT. ONWARDS TO STORY TIME.**

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**Wednesday, May 3rd, 2024**

**1800 Hours**

_Ca-Chunk_

The sound of another pothole resonated through the entire back of the transport; ringing loud and clear off every corner before being slowly consumed once again by the massive diesel engines of the M35 we rode in.

There were probably about fifty of us in total crammed into the back of the duce, each with his or her own set of baggage, be it physical or mental in nature. Rifles and combat gear were also loaded into the trucks, as well as spare ammunition, though more as a "just in case" thing than anything else though.

Needless to say, all that baggage and gear meant there was not much room left for movement, let alone enough space enough to get comfortable.

The large canvas dust cover they had over top of us didn't help much either, serving only to block out the view of our surroundings and the sunlight, leaving us stuck in darkness the entire trip.

Now, normally I am not one to complain about something as petty as travel condition, what with a massive global war happening. However, after twelve hours of this, even my patience was starting to wear thin.

That's right, you heard me correct. Twelve fucking hours of sitting around in the back of this truck, doing jack all, except count the number of potholes we hit and trying not to choke on the dust that slowly filled the space.

If there is a hell, I am almost positive there is a level of it designed purely off of our current predicament.

Slowly, I looked around at the rest of the trainees... no, _soldiers_ that were trapped in here with me. All of them had similar looks to the one I was probably sporting. The look of ruin, of complete and utter mental defeat, of sleep deprivation, and yes, of total and absolute _boredom_.

I don't know where the thought came from; doubt I will ever find out. All I really remember is realizing what was going right at that moment, and being unable to hold in the laughter that filled my body.

My laughs echoed off the fabric walls that covered us, filling the entire cabin until everyone was looking at me with looks of confusion and bewilderment.

The guy sitting right beside me was the first to speak. "Ummmm, Drew? You ok mate?"

I had to stifle my laughter quite a bit to respond, and even then my speech was broken up by whiffs of laughter.

"Yah man, I was just thinking," I snickered. "Bout how we went through how many years of hellish training, trying to become the toughest soldiers we possibly could, both mentally and physically," I chuckled again. "How we were all pushed to the absolute brink of madness, multiple times, but not once did any of us ever give up or break down."

The man and woman around me, though all still thoroughly confused, bobbed their heads in agreement, encouraging me to go on.

Still stifling my laughter, I continued my explanation. "All that training, all that pain and suffering at the hands of out instructors. Not once giving even an inch to them, only to finally be beaten into submission, by a long stretch of boredom!"

Multiple palms met faces, giggles of laughter joining in with my own boisterous laugher, as the realization sank in.

Soon enough though, the cab was filled with a chorus of giggles, snickers and smiles. Smiles, which I was happy to see, continued pretty well until the end of the trip, stopping only after our drill Sergeant opened the back hatch of our transport.

He eyed us all as if we were a pack of wild animals or a bunch of aliens. Obviously not expecting to be met with a bunch of grins and stifled laughter after that long stretch of travel.

"And _what_, in the Sam hell is so god damn funny might I ask?" His crisp, clear voice making the simple question seem more like an order with practiced ease.

"Sir, permission to answer, sir?" Came the loud response from the guy sitting beside me.

"Permission granted, son," was his calm reply.

With permission given, and sporting a wide grin, he spoke as clear and loud as possible. "Sir, what we find so funny, sir, is the realization that if our enemy was only able to be beat by sitting around and doing nothing for twelve hours we would be in a lot of trouble. Sir."

True to his nature, our Sergeant betrayed nothing but a few eye blinks and a raised eyebrow as he listened to the cheeky response. Finally after a solid minute of silence he responded.

"Well then it's a good thing that a heavy dose of hot lead is our best current solution to that problem son." A tiny slip of a smile played across his usually stern face as he spoke.

For the briefest of moment his mask lifted. For the tiniest of moments, he was not our drill Sergeant. He wasn't the man who had pushed us to be better than we were every single day without fail. He wasn't the person who had continually, and without fail, punished us for even the smallest step out of line. He wasn't even our superior officer who we took and followed orders from, night and day.

For that small moment he was down on the same level as us. Showing us that even he was in fact human, and not just some robot as we had all first though he was.

Just as quick as it happened though, it was gone. His posture straightened, his scowl re-fixed itself on his face and his voice rang out with its usual commanding tone.

"_Right_, now I want all of you to be disembarked and ready for orders in thirty minutes! _Anyone_, even a _second_ late, will be doing pushups until they _puke_! _Got that_?"

A round of nods, and "yes sir's" followed suit.

"Right, dismissed!"

A flourish of activity followed his final words. Everyone worked as quickly as possible, gathering up his or her equipment and belongings, before exiting the duce in as timely of a manner as they could.

Once outside the truck, one of the other drills Sergeants quickly pointed us to our new barracks, a large brick building some four hundred meters away.

Her voice cut through the air with incredible ease as she explained the situation to us. "Someone inside will assign you a temporary bunk space. Do _not_ get comfortable, as you will probably be moving to different barracks depending on which squad you are put into."

A round of nods and murmured responses followed suit.

"Right. Now double-time it down to the base, trainees! _Dismissed!"_

Not one complainant was heard as we jogged down the road to the barracks. After all, even double-timed, four hundred meters is a pittance compared to what we normally are forced to run.

The barracks, as it turned out, was almost identical to the one we had just come from. Same red brick walls, same wooden floor, heck even the same style of wood bunk beds lined most of the room.

Really, the only change seemed to be the addition of small chests on either side of the beds for what I could only guess was our personal effects.

Yes, this place brings back memories already. Painful, dramatic, sleep deprived memories. Good times, _goooooood_ times.

The barracks warden, as it turned out, barely even cared about us as we jogged into his building. His attention was barely taken away from the book in his hands for no more than a few seconds, as he quickly explained to us, "Since you won't be here long, grab which ever bed you want. Just _don't_ mess it up too much!"

I grabbed the first top bunk I could find, all but throwing my bags and gear unceremoniously up onto the small bed before someone else could steal it.

"Mine," I muttered quietly as my hands began to make quick work of the straps and knots that littered my baggage.

A few minutes of ensuring that my gear was indeed now stored and safe for later, and I was jogging out of the building, heading straight for the lineup that was quickly forming just outside the doors.

Excitement was evident on everyone's faces as we took our places in preparation of our initiation. Smiles, whispers and murmurs coursed through the group as the minutes ticked past, slowly bringing us closer and close to the announcement time.

Thirty minutes on the dot and all of our drill Sergeant's stood in front of us. Each one dressed and looking much the same as when we first met them all those years ago. The very images of power and authority, standing before us for what may be the last time.

Our group's Sergeant was the first to step forward and speak. His voice booming out over the entire area, as he addressed us.

"Well, we all know why we are here, so let's just skip the formal crap and get right to the nitty gritty." He began.

"Today, as you know, you are all going to be assigned to ride and shadow with a squad who has some actual combat experience. You all have the training needed to perform in the field, it's simply experience and knowledge that you lack now. This is, and will be, the final stage of your initiation into the army; as such you are expected to show your squadmates and new commanders the same level of commitment and respect you have shown us. Nothing less than that will do."

He allowed a belief pause before continuing with his speech.

"Right, all that aside, congratulations is in order to each and every one of you. It has not been an easy ride, I know that because it's our job to make sure it's not. We want only the best to reach this point, and from what you have all shown me, you're all well and truly worthy of that title. You should all feel incredibly proud of what you have accomplished, and know that no matter what happens from this point on, you are deserving of your status as defenders of earth."

"As of today you are officially solders of the _Global Resistance_. As of today you officially will be entering the fight!"

A chorus of cheers and oh-rahs followed the closing statements of our Sergeants speech, quieting only as the Sergeant of one of the other groups stepped forwards.

"Right, let's begin the assignments." Her voice cut through the noise and silenced any and all people still cheering or yelling.

She held up a booklet of papers in her hand as she spoke again. "As all of you know, you men and woman are strictly combat trained. Because of this, you will be sorted into squads that specialize in areas of combat we think you would be best suited for. The decision of which area you're best suited for was, and has, been made by us, and is based on your test results and performance records over the past years."

Murmurs and nods accompanied her explanation as she spoke.

"I know it may not seem fair, but honestly, one, I don't care, and two, welcome to war. This is life and death we are talking about ladies, not collage sports or TV shows. What you specialize in may very well not be what you wanted to do, but remember this. It is what we have seen as your best performance area, and as the area where you are most likely to find success and survival."

More nods and murmurs followed.

"I hold in my hand, the complete list of people here, and squads they have been assigned to. This squad will be your new family for however long you live, so best hope you like the people in them."

A few scattered chuckles followed her comment.

"When you hear your name called, come up front. We will give you the information regarding the squad and place you need to go to meet up with them. You will then leave this area, grab your gear and go meet up with your new commander. Clear?"

A chorus of "_Yes, ma'am._" followed short after.

"Alright, first up, Adrian Smith, Squad _Buckshot_."

"Second up, Artesian Michael's, Squad _Casper_"

My slowly mind zoned out as the names continued to flow. The sounds of quickly turning into nothing more than dull background noise as my thoughts ran ramped.

Where would they put me? What could I be specializing in? Would I be a demo specialist? I know I did fairly well in explosives training, but then, so did most people. Turns out it's not hard to cause damage with high-powered explosives.

Maybe an assault squad then? After all I did get compliments on my static rifle scores. But then again I also _sucked_ on the run and gun course. I mean, sure I had the speed, but my aim was defiantly not that great…

"Drew Crawford, Squad..."

I looked up at her as she paused on the last part. Waiting for her to announce my squad, to finally have the answer I had been waiting for.

Silence. No answer, no statement, no excuses for the stop. Nothing.

Ever so slowly I began to make my way towards the front, unsure of what to really say or do. Heck, she didn't even look up when I approached her. Instead she kept her head bowed, looking so intently at the papers she grasped.

"Ma'am?" I asked quietly as I stood in front of her, awkwardly awaiting a response or some sort of signal of what to do.

Finally she spoke. "Report to the main building, there is a man there who would like to see you. Suit and tie, can't miss him." She spoke in soft tones, no commanding edge, or anything. It was more of a request than order.

I myself could only stand there in total confusion at her actions. Was I going to be dismissed from the army? Was I deemed not good enough to continue? What the heck was going on?

Finally after what felt like a few minute had gone by I found my voice. "What squad commander should I ask for?"

She never got the chance to respond, never even needed to either.

I got my answer came from a voice behind me. It was a female voice. Calm, cool and collected, it sounded almost delicate. Yet it was also a voice that held more power, command and edge to it, than any other voice I had heard up to this point. Pure and utter respect was demanded from that voice, and nothing less would do.

A small shiver of fear and admiration ran through my body as the words she spoke finally registered.

"Drew Crawford, Squad _Lockdown_."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello and welcome once again.**

**I do apologize for the delays on these chapters, but alas, school and work has made finding time to work on this rather…. **_**difficult**_**to say the least****.**

**No****,**** I am not abandoning this****,**** however do expect a good amount of time in between chapters.**

**I do have the entire story planned out so far and I have material for a lot of chapters, ones which I greatly look ****forward ****to writing as well.**

**To all you new fans welcome, feel free to leave a Review, Favorite or Follow as it makes me very happy, and defiantly inspires me to continue ****writing****.**

**Right****,**** enough whoring****.****Onto ****the story****.**

* * *

**Wednesday, May 3rd, 2024**

**2100 Hours**

Until recently, I had always been of the belief that you should never _ever_ meet your idols in person.

Be it childhood idols, current idols, American idols, it doesn't matter. Do yourself a favor and just don't meet them in person. I know it seems like a weird belief, but please bear with me for a second before you write me off as mentally compromised.

See, the reason why I had this belief was the same reason why I didn't ever go to see movies people are raving about before they are even released or buy games that have won multiple awards before they are even beta tested. Simply put, they have _far_ too much hype surrounding them to possibly fully meet our expectations of them.

We have seen it happen before, and it's sure to happen again. Companies or groups of people build up so much excitement and buzz for these new creations of theirs, that when they are finally released they always end up feeling under whelming and generic, and fade into obscurity almost immediately after launch. The product or person reduced to nothing more than a shell of their former glory.

I watched this happen many times during my life, and believed that this same thing would happen to my idols should I meet them. That since I had so much respect and admiration towards them, that they too would crumble beneath the weight of my own expectations, and become just another forgotten moment in my life.

That used to be my belief anyways. "_Used to be_," because that belief, along with a rather staggering list of others, was shattered the moment I laid my eyes onto my new commander.

At first glance, you easily could have missed her. Standing at roughly five foot eleven inches, she was not only shorter than most people around her, but also much slimmer in build. No bulging shoulders or massive bulked up arms. Hell, she looked like she probably only weighed about hundred and fifty pounds. Nothing physical about her screamed, _"I'm a total badass who has more kills racked up than all of you dipshits combined_."

In a way, almost everything about her was oddly disarming and ordinary. When combined with her standard issue BDU, naturally ridged posture and expressionless face, she could have almost completely blended in with the rest of the group.

Almost could have blended in, save for three major things.

First was her hair. Despite being only slightly longer than the average military cut, it stood out like a sore thumb, though that could mostly be attributed to the color rather than the cut. Pure white, unbleached, and almost glowing. That hair could probably act as an emergency flare if needs be.

Second were her eyes. Ice blue is an apt description of both the color and the feeling they give you. Cold, unyielding, and deadly sharp, those eyes could, and I would bet probably have, sent shivers up the spine of even the most hardened veterans.

Third, and probably the most noticeable part of her, was not at all visible. It was the feeling you got, just from being around her. We had all heard tales about people who you could tell were dangerous just from looking at them, people who had an air about them that all but screams at you not to fuck with them, but I had never actually met anyone like that before. Well, until now that is.

If my posture was not rigid enough before, it was now. If I didn't have a look of complete and utter obedience and respect plastered on my face, I did now. Looking at her as she stalked towards me, gave me the same kind of feeling I'm sure a deer gets when its circled by a hungry pack of wolfs. Deeply rooted fear, and the sense that if I made one wrong move, and I would be ripped to shreds.

A chill ran down my spine as she stood in front of me. Despite being almost a head taller than her, she towered over me. I may as well have been an ant on her boots heel for how insignificant I must have looked in comparison to her.

Her eyes locked onto mine as she once again addressed me. "Drew Crawford. You are now a part of squad _Lockdown_, report to the front entrance with all your gear. You will not be returning to this place anytime soon. Are we clear?"

Those damn eyes of hers, never left my own as she spoke, hell I'm sure she didn't even blink once the entire time. To say they unnerved me would be a severe understatement as well. Hauntingly beautiful and yet as cold and bleak as the tundra, I had little to no doubt that they would end up in my nightmares at one point of another.

"Yes Ma'am." I replied, instilling my voice with as much conviction as possible, despite only needing to say a few words.

"Good," she stated coolly. "Dismissed."

I turned and all but sprinting away from her before the final syllable was out of her mouth. My mind racing almost as fast as my body, as I made my way back to the sleeping dorms. Millions of questions streamed through my head every second, each one more and more complex than the last.

One thought though dominated everything else, one question that for the life of me, I could not find the answer to. "_Why me_?"

Out of all the recruits she had picked me. Why? What had I done to catch her eye? Did she see something in me? Did she even pick me or was something else at play? Was this all part of some elaborate joke?

I was packed and headed out of the building before I even had one question answered. I slowly made my way towards the front entrance to our camp. Slowly climbing the hill I had walked down only moments before in a vain hope that I would figure it all out before the top.

Questions continued to pour in as I made my way, all of my gear in tow. Cresting the hill, I near choked when I saw what was waiting for me.


	5. Chapter 5

**_A new chapter? What is this? I know right? weeeeeird. Anyways life's been shit, yadah yadah yadah, be writing more soon. Cheers and enjoy the chapter. Leave the comments as usual if you hate it or love it Cheers X)_**

**_ONWARD TO THE STORY_**

* * *

**Wednesday, May 3rd, 2024**

**2130 hours**

A _skyranger_.

A goddamn, mother fucking, _skyranger_.

The current pinnacle of human aviation engineering, and one of the only vehicles on the planet capable of hypersonic flight. This brilliant machine is the first of a new breed of _VTOL_(Vertical Take Off and Landing) aviation prototypes, designed to take troops into hotspots that prior to their creation, nothing else could reach.

Built off the chassis design of the Chinese Y-20, the plane was created through a combination of decades of work and a complete overhaul of existing technology used in the Lockheed C-130 STOL and Bell Boeing V-22 Osprey. By replacing propeller engines with rockets and slimming down the size of the plane, the designers hoped this new transport would provide a level of speed, versatility and maneuverability never thought possible before. Needless to say, they succeeded completely. The only problem was the price tag they ran.

The most recent reports I had read on the subject indicated, that all functioning skyrangerswere currently designated as VIP and Presidential transports, since as of right now, they were deemed far too expensive to run as full time military transports. So that only left one, small piece of information missing from this whole scenario.

"Why in the hell is one here?" I muttered absentmindedly, continuing my brisk jog towards the front entrance, as I had been instructed to do.

"It's our ride out of here of course," came the cold, clipped reply from right behind me.

_Lockdown_.

I went from mid-stride to standing at attention before I even realized what was going on.

To this day, I have no idea how or why I felt the need to do that. Maybe it was the fear, maybe it was the respect, or maybe it was the unnatural air she gave off. But something… something about her kept me walking on eggshells.

"Crawford?" She addressed me with a deep sigh, patting me on the shoulder before she calmly strolling down towards the ship. "At ease."

Quickly gathering up my rather hastily dropped items, I stood to address her. She instantly cut me off with a wave of her hand. "Save it. I sincerely hope, for your sake more than mine, this is not how you will react to me _every_ time I speak to you. Would make for some serious problems on missions."

"I apologize, ma'am." The words were out of my mouth before I could even process them. "It won't happen again."

She paused just long enough to give me a raised eyebrow and a blank stare before continuing forwards, beckoning me towards the transportbefore us. "They said you were different. Didn't know they meant that literally." She mused, just loud enough for me to hear.

I felt my face heat up slightly at that comment.

"I'm Canadian. Apologies are in my blood." I stated before my brain had time to catch up with the events of the last minute.

A snort, and a sly smile that made my skin crawl with unease were my rewards for that attempt at a joke. "Well, seems someone's finally pulling the stick out a bit." She stated walking calmly up to the bay doors of the Ranger and unceremoniously banging on them several times.

"Owie Sky! I'm back! _Open up_!"

As if by magic, the bay door hydraulics immediately went to work, slowly opening the bay up bit by bit to both myself and Lockdown, as well as unveiling either the craziest or bravest woman I never thought I would ever have the honor of meeting.

Standing at an impressive five feet four inches, _Big Sky_, otherwise known as Lisa Rinna, is one of, if not the best airborne transport pilots this military has ever seen. According to early combat reports, on her first very first combat mission, she not only disobeyed direct orders and landed her craft while in an active fire zone, but also left the cockpit and fought off a few straggling enemies while the squad she was retrieving made its way on board. Needless to say after that performance she made her way up the ranks very quickly, much to the dismay of her commanding officer.

Her reputation and never-quit attitude not only saved god knows how many lives, but also earned her a spot on the infamous _Night Stalkers_, 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment. Hell, at one point the president himself in a live broadcasted interview even requested she be his pilot anytime he traveled to a hot spot!

Now as to why this icon of the flying corps stood before me, scowling down at my pathetic existence with her hands on her hips, I had not the faintest clue, nor did I expect to come up with a reason by myself anytime soon.

See, between the skyranger, being assigned to become a part of the single most devastating shock squad in the entire world, and meeting two of the most influential, well known and revered woman in the entire military, my brain was just short of being completely and utterly short circuited.

Slowly a feral grin over took Sky's face, as she continued to lord herself over my mortal existence.

"Lock! Holy shit, girl! It's about fucking time you showed up! Another few minutes and I was planned to leave your straggly little ass here!" The peppy blonde before me all but scolded the Staff Sergeant.

Of all the things I had expected to hear her say, _that_ was not very high on the list. I mean, everyone knew Big Sky had some disciplinary issues, but I never would have guessed she was a complete insubordinate. Talking to a Master Sergeant like that in front of a private... I could only imagine the reprimanding she would receive for her actions, any second now.

Any second…

A hard chuckled came from beside me as Lockdown seemingly undeterred by this complete lack of regard for ranking, simply walked forwards into the cargo hold of the Ranger. "Sorry Sky, but if you have any issues take it up with the new guy," she stated, thumbing in my direction. "He and his ass stick are the reason I'm late."

I blinked. "I take it you two know each other?" I asked, more out of shock than anything else.

"Hell yah we do!" Came the up roaring response from Big Sky, punching Lockdown lightly on the shoulder as she passed. "I've saved her ass more times than I can count! Granted, she also saved my ass a good number of times too..." She paused before redoubling her smile and brought it to bear on me. "Anyways, moving on, what's this I hear about you being the reason she is behind schedule?"

It took a second or two, but eventually the pieces clicked into place.

I had taken too long getting over here.

My first day on squad Lockdown, and I had not only embarrassed myself probably several times by now, and also single handedly delayed two of the most important people in this military for an unknown amount for time. Time they very well could have put to much better use.

"My deepest apologies ma'am," I stated as formally as possible, with my head bowed in respect. "I didn't mean to delay you."

A second passed

Then ten.

Then a minute.

I slowly peaked upwards. A look of utter confusion was plastered on Big Sky's face, her head cocked slightly to the side. "Um Lock?" She yelled over her shoulder. "You sure you grabbed the right guy?"

Lockdown, didn't even bother glancing up from the seat she was preparing, to respond. "Double checked already. Definitely him."

"Huh," Sky muttered. "What's your name, kid?"

"Private First Class, Drew Crawford, Ma'am!" Came my immediate response.

"Huh," she muttered again, clearly just as confused as to why I was here, as I was. "Well, hurry your ass up Crawford! I wanted to be gone from this place ten minutes ago! _Chop chop_!"

"Yes, Ma'am!" I shouted, swiftly snapping a salute before grabbing my duffel and gear and sprinting up into the bay, feeling the heavy pressure sealed doors start to close the moment my boots hit the metal.

Making my way deeper into the ship's interior, Lockdown pointed to the seat right beside her. "I'm sure you have questions, so I'll answer them as we fly." Her tone left no room for argument on the matter.

I nodded opening my mouth to respond.

"And I swear to god if you call me _ma'am_ one more time, I'm going to use you as target practice the moment we get off this ship." She added, the look in her eyes making it perfectly clear that this was no empty threat.

Quickly, quietly, I sat down next to her.

"May want to strap in immediately to," she stated while glancing towards the pilots cockpit where Big Sky had entered just moments ago.

"Why? Doesn't she have pre-flight checks and everything else to do first?" I ask curiously, while working out how to snap the buckles of the seat together in a way that didn't look absolutely ridiculous.

A deep heavy rumbling shook the hold.

"Now you may want to hold onto something!" Lockdown stated loudly, looking at my unfastened harness with apparent amusement.

"What do you _meaaaaaaaaah!"_


	6. Chapter 6

**What? Another chapter? Already?**

**I'm not working ok? I lost my Job... DON'T JUDGE ME**

**RIGHT! ONTO THE STORY**

**(PS THANKS FOR THE SUPPORT AND PLEASE CONTINUE TO LEAVE THE COMMENTS AND MESSAGES!)**

* * *

**Wednesday, May 4th, 2024**

**0130 Hours**

A dark, blurry, metal room.

That's the image that greeted me as I awoke from my impromptu slumber. A dark, dull, metal room with no windows and a massive hydraulic door in front of me. Not the most charming sight to wake up to, I can assure you of that, especially not when one does not have the slightest clue as to where one is.

"A cargo bay of some sort?" I muttered in confusion, trying and failing horribly to fight off the dull incessant throbbing of my head that accompanied my confusion and now conscious state of being.

The noises didn't help much with that. Based off the dull rumble and randomly occurring bumps, that shook the entire space, I would have to guess there was a good chance I had managed to get myself trapped in some sort of aviation transports cargo hold. As to how and why I ended up here? Well, those questions would have to wait.

A quick glance downwards, confirmed my theory, as I found myself strapped into an intricate buckle system attached to a wall mounted seat. The seat was, for whatever reason, decently comfortable and the buckles looked very sturdy, indicating a very fast and rough ride may be in store.

"Finally awake, I see?"

I froze. That voice. I knew that voice. Glancing in the direction the question had come from, I was greeted with a very familiar face and the perfected look of complete and utter disappointment.

Lockdown.

"Shit…" I uttered as my memory finally caught up with my groggy head and recounted the past day in excruciating detail. Right up to when the sheer force of the ships acceleration had knocked me head first into the bay doors.

"Enjoy your impromptu nap, Private?"

Groaning more out of embarrassment than anything else, my mind responded on autopilot. "Not particularly, ma'am".

Of course I made sure to remember her exact feelings on being called _ma'am_ moments after the words left my mouth. "Shit, right. Sorry!"

I must have openly shown my dread as to the consequences of my mistake, because a raised eyebrow and a smirk was her only response.

Leaning my head back against the cool metal seat backing, I gestured towards her form. "So what do I call you instead of Ma'am?"

Slowly, and very deliberately, she made her way over to the seat beside me. "You can call me whatever you want," she explained. "So long as you continue to respect my authority and answer my commands in a fast and efficient manner," she paused for a moment to glance over at me. "Though I don't think for you that will be a problem."

Day one and already pegged as a teacher's pet. Great.

I let out an audible sigh in both annoyance and defeat.

"As you command...Lock."

She smirked heavily at my reluctance, before gesturing for me to continue.

"So is this the part where you answer any and all of my questions?" I asked, hoping against hope she wouldn't shut me down the moment I opened my mouth.

"Staff Sargent Lockdown, at your service," she stated, sarcasm oozing out of every word she spoke.

I took that as a sign to continue. "Ok, so whatever happened to the suit-and-tie guy I was supposed to meet at the front?"

Another raised eye brow in response. If luck would have it, I would have her confused expression memorized before this trip was over.

"_Really_?" She stated, completely bemused. "_That's_ the most pressing question you have?"

I nodded in response, shrinking more and more into my seat every second that her gaze was directed at me.

Shaking her head clear of whatever confusion she was experiencing, she answered. "The _suit-and-tie guy_ as you so eloquently called him, for lack of a better way of explaining it, is me. _Suit and Tie_ is the code we use to prevent anyone else from knowing a member of Lockdown is with in the vicinity."

She glanced over to me before continuing. "As to your next question, I showed myself and went against that protocol for two reasons. First reason, is that the moral boost that those new recruits will have gotten from knowing that, if they work hard enough, they too could someday become a member of an elite squad like _Lockdown_, is far larger in size than the risk I took exposing myself. The second reason is because you were taking too long."

I blinked, more out of disbelief than anything else before nodding and forging forwards. "Ok, so I guess my next question is what the hell I'm doing here?"

A loud sigh was her first response. "I could very well tell you, but honestly, I would wait for the commander to explain that one. He was the one who selected you for the role anyways, so let's just save that one, ok?"

I simply nodded in answer, before continuing down my list of questions. "What can you tell me about your squad?"

A smile, a real genuine smile crossed her face at that question. "Squad _Lockdown,_" she explained. "As you know, is a small group consisting of six, now seven, highly specialized members who are considered to be the premier shock squad of the Global Resistance. Our missions are all classified as above top secret, and are usually to some degree, suicidal in nature."

She paused to breath before continuing. "That's the official story anyways. Tell me, have you ever heard of a division of the military called XCOM?"

My brain spun to life, recounting any and all information about different divisions of the military. XCOM, I had heard that name before, but just briefly.

"The uh, Communications development sector? I think?" I stated, recalling briefly a report I had read about a year ago with that name in the title.

A hum of acknowledgment was Lockdown's response before she continued with her story. "That's their official title, yes. In actuality, they are a specialized research and development division that oversees all weapon and armor development from research that's based on the alien technology we have acquired over the years."

"Basically, they are Area 51." I stated, as pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place.

She nodded. "In a sense, yes. However, unlike Area 51, they have actually made a number of quite remarkable breakthroughs in the past few years. The three biggest ones being the creation of MEC Troopers, Genetic modification, and Cryogenic stasis."

"Ok, hold up," I interrupted. "What does all this have to do with your squad? I thought you were soldiers, not scientists."

"Guinea pigs would be a more accurate description, actually," she explained, unhindered by my interruption. "All the prototype weapons, all the experimental armor, all of it needs to be tested in real combat before being deployed to the masses. _That's_ where we come in. Since we have the most contact, with the widest variety of enemies, we can provide the scientists back home with the real world data and information they need, while still completing missions to help push back the invaders. It's a real win-win situation."

She paused before completely turning her attention onto me. "Now, I have a couple questions for you, private," she stated in a tone that left no room for argument. "First off, your file said you have been in training for a little over forty months. That's well over double the usual time it takes to graduate and be assigned to a squad. What it didn't explain is why. Care to shed some light on that?"

"Well," I began. "It's pretty simple, actually. During my first year of training, I was involved in a live fire training accident that resulted in the injury of both my legs. Nothing too serious, or life altering as you can see, but it warranted surgery, which did put me out of training for around six to eight months."

She nodded, signaling for me to continue with my story.

"After that I had to restart training from phase one. Turns out lying around all day and rehab hadn't helped too much in building back up the endurance or strength needed to continue my training, so it was back to the pits so to speak. Twenty months of standard training later and boom. Here I am."

I could see the frown that marred locks face as she tried to figure out the time line I had given her. There was no doubt she would realize there was about half a year missing from my explanation. Six months of work that she would most defiantly have seen in my file, if she had read it at all.

CTD. Cryo stasis Training and Development. Six months of grueling, completely optional training, that was supposed to prepare you in the event you became a member of a fast deployment squad. Many people called it complete hell, and for good reason.

I still considered it less painful that some of the things you can experience during a wartime, and I had a sneaking suspicion than she did as well.

As luck would have it though, I never ended up having to answer any more of Lock's questions, as just before she opened her mouth again, the ship suddenly lurched and began to descend, forcing her to strap in and prepare for landing.

Though if her unwavering glare at me was anything to go by, I would have to explain myself sooner or later.

Preferably much, _much_ later.


	7. Chapter 7

**OK. soo... long story short sorry bout the wait but here you go**

**Its a chapter. and one I'm happy with. It took me a lot longer because of reasons but I think its worth it**

**BIG HUGE MASSIVE EXORBITANT Thank you to my NEW BETA READER **

**Xabiar (go check him/her/IDK out because I told you to)**

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**ALL FUCKING RIGHT! NOW ONWARD TO THE STORY!**

* * *

**Wednesday, May 4th, 2024**

**0230 Hours**

XCOM's Forward Operations Base is, in a word, awe inspiring. To this day, I can scarcely put into words the feelings that were instilled within me the moment I exited the _Skyranger's_ cargo bay.

Anxiety, admiration, amazement, shock, confusion, wonderment, fascination, surprise, uncertainty, the list goes on and on. Too many feelings and too much to comprehend.

The hanger, if you could even call it that, we had found ourselves in was absolutely massive. As large as several football fields, no doubt to allow easy access and take off to the four other _Skyranger's_ stationed at specific intervals along the ever stretching tarmac. Teams of mechanics and engineers bustled around the hanger with a practiced ease, fixing or maintaining each one of the transports with a meticulously care and discipline scarcely seen outside of the military.

Massive reinforced concrete walls surrounded each side of the complex, stretching upwards for what seemed an eternity before being capped off by a set of massive metal hanger doors. Perched near the top of each wall face was a large glass faced room, all four of which I could only guess, must be the command decks for each of the launch pads bellow them. What with all the cameras and flood lights that littered the smooth surface of each wall, no doubt the operators in each of those rooms, had a clean and clear bird's eye view of the action, and direct control over each area at large.

Truly the base was a remarkable display of technological and engineering prowess.

"Pretty impressive, isn't it," came a sudden stark chuckle from beside me.

A bit startled from the shock of finding our rather hot-headed pilot, Lisa, standing not two feet from me, wearing what could only be described as a shit eating grin. I struggled as I attempted to answer her, opening and closing my mouth several times, in a futile attempt to try and convey the thoughts and feelings that were currently swarming my head.

Eventually, and I would guess inevitably, I gave up entirely, simply nodding in agreement to her rather toned down description.

"The tarmac is about four and a half acers total," she explained giddily, a smile stretching from ear to ear. "And as you have probably guessed, yes we are in fact underground. About a hundred and fifty feet below ground level to be exact." She glanced my way to gauge my reaction to the news, before continuing on. "It may seem a bit extreme, but this actually gives us the ability to launch up to four fully loaded _Skyrangers_ at the same time. Which, depending on the mission and time constraints, is very much needed."

My brain was having some serious trouble keeping up with this new information. I mean, seriously. Secret underground bases were something usually reserved for the movies. The confusion must have shown on my face as well.

"Don't worry though," She hurriedly exclaimed, completely misinterpreting my "_entirely lost_" expression for one of disappointment. "The rest of the base is _way_ more impressive!"

I almost lost it at that statement, whirling around to face her in a fit of hysteria. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE 'REST OF THE BASE?'" I almost cried out in sheer befuddlement. "YOU MEAN THERE'S MORE?!"

She raised an eyebrow in perplexity and bewilderment at my agitation. "Well, I mean the hanger only makes up about a third of the actual base…" She explained tentatively, treading lightly on what she must have assumed was my own very thin mental ice.

A good choice considering right now it was more like a minefield than just thin ice.

It took several deep breaths and a serious mental slap to calm my own mind down from the sheer absurdity of my current situation. I mean, this hanger was one thing, but to think that this was only the tip of the metaphorical iceberg was completely insane. I mean seriously, just how much power did this XCOM division have?

"_Cherr "Big Sky__"__ to Command __M__odule __T__hree, __Big Sky__ to __C__ommand __M__odule __T__hree. Cherr_

The intercom clearly and crisply delivered the message despite the massive amount of background noise that the hanger produced. No doubt some amazing technology I had never heard of was responsible for that feat.

Lisa flashed me a sympathetic smile as her name was called. "Sorry! Duty calls! I gotta run! YOU GOOD TO GO LOCK?"

"Don't worry Sky," came the response from behind me. "I'll take him from here."

A quick smile in response and she was gone just as quickly as she arrived, leaving behind only myself and Lock, who unlike Lisa, could quite clearly see just how lost I was.

"I know the feeling," she explained, a neutral expression adorning her face as she spoke. "It's a lot to take in the first time. I myself could scarcely believe a place like this existed when they first brought me here." Her cool and composed voice pulling me from my own mental fit with a practiced ease that leadership figures were known for.

"No kidding," was about the only thing I could mutter in response, before taking a deep breath and addressing her once again. "So what do we do now?"

Her neutral expression never wavering, she started walking forwards towards two hefty looing metal doors on the far end of the hanger, "Now," she stated. "Now you get your answers"

Still confused, but having little to no choice in the matter, I followed her trail through the doors and down the connecting hallways.

Room after room passed by as we walked, some were obviously laboratories of one kind or another, others contained what I could only describe as alien artifacts, and still others I could scarcely begin to fathom the reason for their existence. Scientists, lab rats, and security forces littered each area we passed, not one person paying any attention to the two of us as we traveled, too engrossed in their work or experiments. It was surreal to say the least.

True to Lisa's words, the base proved far too immense and complex to try and take in all at once, so much so that I ended up ignoring many of the rooms, unable to fully process the sheer size and complexity of the operation that I had been thrust into. This was not just a single squad operation. That much was becoming very clear.

Finally, after dozens of twists, turns and staircases, we finally found ourselves in front of a set of large glossy black metal doors, adorned with a strange emblem and the words _VIGILO CONFIDO_ engraved deeply into the material. The message that it delivered though was very clear, whoever was behind this door was the man or woman who ran this entire operation.

A small beep sounded, and without hesitation _Lockdown _pushed the doors inwards, holding one for me to enter with her.

The office, as it turned out to be, was surpris ingly one of the four rooms that stood atop the hanger walls. Book shelves, filing cabinets and large safes littered the room, each one completely overflowing with books and documents of all varying nature. At the center of the chaos, completely clean and devoid of any mess, stood a rather large and well used mahogany desk, complete with a desk lamp, a name plate and several chairs aligned in front of it.

A deep rumble emanated from the far comer of the office, bring my attention to the rather large, well-dressed man that most likely owned this very office. "You're late," he stated gruffly, without so much as turning around to greet myself or Lock.

"Unforeseen complications, sir," she replied quickly and professionally, clearly used to the treatment of her commander. "Private, this is _the Commander_. He runs and manages the FOB you're standing in, as well as being responsible for the coordination and execution of all our out of base operations and missions."

I took a tentative step forwards, extending a hand to the man I would now be no doubt working under. "It's a pleasure to meet you sir." I stated, trying my utmost to replicate the respectful tone that Lock had addressed him with.

"One hour, thirty-six minutes," he specified, seemingly unmoved by my address. "Do you know how many lives can be lost in one hour, thirty-six minutes?"

Hesitation was my answer, and as it turned out, was also the wrong one to give.

"Ten million, four hundred and sixty-seven thousand, three hundred and twenty, lives. Give or take a few thousand," he rambled onwards, finally turning himself towards myself and Lock. "So tell me Private Drew L. Crawford. Is what you accomplished during that one hour and thirty-six minutes worth the lives of over ten million people?"

I retracted my hand on pure instinct, blinking several times as the weight of his words settled upon me. "No sir," I replied shakily. "It was not."

Dangerous. This man before me, this familiar feeling, he unnerved me. Lockdown had an air of not-to-be-fucked-with, but this man this, _snake_, he was something else entirely. Everything about him seemed to radiate peril and deceit. His immaculate posture, the demeaning mannerisms, the underlying threat of his voice, hell even his completely dead to rights eyes. Everything about him screamed at me to get as far away possible and to never look back.

I unconsciously took a half step backwards as he moved towards me. His physical proximity to me was making me more and more uncomfortable.

"Time costs lives," he continued as he paced forwards. "The next time you stand before me, guilty of being late, you had better have saved more lives than your tardiness has killed."

The sheer malice behind his thinly veiled threat was immense, and with the amount of technology and power his facility no doubt offered him, there was no doubt in my mind he could very well back it up.

Spearing me one more glance, before making his way to one of the safes behind the desk, his voice returned to its previous growl. "Now, at ease and please sit. We have much to discuss and very little time."

I hesitantly took a seat in one of the two chairs in front of his desk, waiting for both Lock and _The Commander _to take theirs before daring to say anything.

_Thawp._

My head snapped downwards as several large files were unceremoniously dropped down in front of me. Dull, brown, most of them completely stuffed with pages upon pages of information, and with a bright red TOP SECRET label clearly stamped into the middle.

These files were very clearly not to be seen by anyone but _The Commander_ himself. Very meticulously lettered in at the top of each file, in dark black ink, were several different names. Lisa _Big Sky,_Rina, Park _Chip _Ma, Shane _Ace _Weaver, among others. A quick rifle through them confirmed my theory. These were the personal files of each member of squad Lockdown, minus one: Lock's.

I felt a lump bringing to form in the back of my throat as I gazed down on what was probably the largest collection of top secret military documents I had ever seen. "Permission to speak, sir?" I felt myself croak out, watching as _The Commander _circled his was back around to the large, tired looking, office chair that stood behind his desk.

"Permission granted," his reply was devoid of any expression or emotion, as was expected.

I wet my lips in a halfhearted attempt to move forwards with my question. "What exactly _is_ XCOM?"

The chair strained and creaked as he took a seat, swiveling it around to face myself and Lock, as he clasped his hands tightly together under his nose. After a moments pause, he spoke.

"XCOM or Extraterrestrial Combat Unit," he began. "Was originally created after an event in 2013 confirmed that we were not the only intelligent species in the universe. A group of countries called the _Council of Nations _banded together to create XCOM, the most elite military and scientific organization in human history, tasked with defending us from the alien attacks that could potentially come." He quickly paused to re adjust his glasses before continuing.

"From that foundation we have grown into what we are today. The largest top secret division of the US military, capable of launching completely clandestine missions all over the world. We have also retained out roots as a scientific development center, becoming the most successful reverse geoengineering lab and alien specific research center on the planet. Recently we have also expanded our operations to include intelligence gathering, becoming the largest and most accurate data decryption and management group that the _Global __Resistance_has to offer.

Every single major development in science and medicating, every single major military offensive and battle that has occurred, every single victory that the _Global Offensive _has had, has been directly because of the efforts of every man and woman in the facility." He stated each fact with complete authority. Very clearly, entirely and utterly confident in the validity of each and every word he spoke.

"What is XCOM you ask?" He concluded derisively. "We are all that stands between the invasion force and our total annihilation."

I sat speechless for several minutes. My mind trying desperately to fathom the magnitude of what he just stated, and to extrapolate what it exactly meant for my own future. My conclusion: None of this made any sense. None of it

Finally after several minutes of absolute silence, I found the courage to speak. "Pardon my language sir, but if that is all true, and I'm inclined to believe it is, what the _fuck_ do you need me for?"

I will never in all my days to come, forget his utterly detached response.

"Because we are losing and I need a contingency plan."

Silence. Dead silence. My mind could simply not grasp the reality that this silver tongued devil before me had created. I mean losing? Us? Humanity? We were_ losing_?

"You mean…" I began

"Yes." He cut me off completely. "We are losing. That is the reality of our situation."

"Ok and what? You want me to become some kind of biological suicide bomber to save millions or something?!" I exclaimed, unable to suppress my agitation at the confusion of this whole mess any longer.

"Of course not!" A scowl creasing his face as he spoke. "That would make finding and selecting you, a complete waste of time, money and lives!"

"No." He concluded pointing directly to Lock beside me, "I want you to become her".

"… _What_?!"


	8. Chapter 8

**HELLO, YES this is a new chapter. YES I have been writing. YES you can praise the ground my beta reader walks on.**

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**Right ONWARD to the story**

* * *

**Wednesday, May 4th, 2024**

**0315 Hours**

_"What__?!"_

True to his nature, the_ Commander_ didn't even flinch at my raised voice. Hell, he didn't even blink, making me wonder if he was deaf, or simply just enjoyed dropping atomic level mind fucks on unsuspecting people.

"I want you to become Lockdown," he affirmed, repeating his previous statment as casually as one might talk about the weather. "I want you to help me win this war."

It really goes without saying, but after that revelation, I was completely and utterly speechless.

Now during our trip to the facility, I had come up with some pretty fantastic and impossible theories as to why a project like XCOM had need for a nameless grunt like myself. Everything from being a new recruit to replace an older one, all the way down to experimental bio-engineering. Yet despite all the theories and thoughts, it seemed the actual reality of my situation was even stranger than any fantasy I could have come up with.

_Me_? Become _Lock_? Just what kind of messed up medical work did they have planned for me? Did he mean become, like, a clone of her? Or did they intend for me to take over her body? Wait! Lock's a girl! How could I _possibly_ become her? Unless they mean...

Before I could even stop myself, questions were pouring from my mouth left, right, and center at a rather alarming rate. Some were directed at _The __Commander_, others at Lock, some just to the world in general. A non-stop geyser of inquirys and curiosities that I didn't even give them time to respond to.

That is until Lock finally got tired of my antics, and all but threw me to the floor with her arm wrapped securely around my neck. A very simply, yet highly effective chokehold that she held onto, until I finally stopped squirming and tapped out.

_The Commander_ stayed seated and silent through out our entire confrontation, waiting patiently for Lock and myself to return to our seats, before raising a perturbed eyebrow in my direction. No doubt questioning his choice of person and gauging my reaction to his proposal.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I growled right at him, "_Excuse_ me for freaking out over the fact you want me to undergo a _fucking sex change_!"

_SMACK!_

I felt Locks palm connect quite solidly with the top of my head, knocking my current thoughts and mental fatigue right out the god damn window. A quick glance towards her showed that unlike the usual bemused expression she seemed to wear when ever I did or said something stupid, she was openly gaping at me, as if I was simply the most unbelievable and idiotic thing on the face of the planet.

"He does not mean _physically, _you _idiot_!" She roared right into my face, before shaking her head and turing her attention towards the_ Commander_.

"Commander, permission to take Drew to the infirmary to get him checked out? Clearly he is physically unable to have this conversation right now," she quipped, sneaking glares of disdain and utter bafflement towards me as she spoke.

"Permission denied," he answered, seemingly unfazed by either of our actions. "He was simply three assumptions ahead of us."

One last look of bewilderment crossed her face, before once again her mask of neutrality slid cleanly back into place, and she sat back down in the chair next to me as if nothing had happened. The perfect picture of statuesque once more.

Leaning forward to tap the pile in front of me, he continued forwards with his agenda. "The details of this mission are documented in the folder at the very bottom of the pile." He explained, gesturing for me to proceed with his directions.

Reaching under the large stack, true to his word, a darker, more offical looking folder emerged from the heap of classified information. This one a dark grey with large red lettering at the top that read _Operation Jailbreak_.

Inside the folder sat a single sheet of very dense legal paper. It was very formal looking, peppered with official seals, signatures, dates, resource amounts, fine print, and legal jargon from top to bottom. Near the middle of the confusing jumble of information however, sat a single neatly hand-writen paragraph.

_Operation Jailbreak, which entails the personalized training, __psychological __evaluation and complete genetic modification, of one Drew L__.__ Crawford, has been approved by all official members of project __XCOM__, the Global Resistance, and the __Council of Nations__. Contact will be made with Drew to explain the terms and conditions behind this contractor ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||__.__ The project is to be spearheaded and managed by __Commander |||||||||| __and ||||| __Lockdown |||||||||__.__ The __Council __also recognizes that should Drew choose to accept the offer, this event will mark the beginning of Operation |||||| |||||||||__, and the beginning of our full scale retaliation against the invaders. All resources and information will be transferred __**immediately**__ upon retrieval of the completely signed document._

_Good luck and __Godspeed __Commander_

I was completely speechless. It seemed like the more answers I recived, the more questions arose.

What was genetic modification? What would it do to me? What was the other operation that hinged on my accpetence of this contract? Was I able to refuse the offer? Did it even _matter_ if I said yes or no? It was all far too much to process at once.

And yet, even as I sat there, completely perplexed as to the meaning of everythng that had transpired, one question stuck out from the rest. Would my help really make as much of a difference as the letter made it seem?

One look into both the_ Commander_ and Lockdown's eyes said it all. Yes. This truely was as big of a deal as it looked.

I thought back to my final words in my journal. Was this my moment? Was this my chance to make the impact my friends and I had always dreamed of making?

It was very clear something else was going on here, something behind the scenes that neither the_ Commander_ nor Lock wanted me to know about. Yet there was also no denying that this letter, that was signed by the far too many high ranked officals to count, labeled me as a key to success in any of these future endeavors. Me. Drew L. Crawford. The key to possibly mounting a counter attack against the invaders. The key to potentially putting an end to this war. Hell, the key to potentially retaking our planet, our home.

Not Lock.

Not the_ Commander_.

_Me_.

"Do I have to make this decision right now?" I choked out, eyes still glued to the paper in front of me, reading it over and over again just to make sure I hadn't misinterpreted anything like last time. Again and again comming to the same conclusion.

"You can if you desire," the_ Commander_ snarled in disgust. "But remember, every minute you waste thinking over what is quite honestly, a _very_ easy decision, more and more people _die_!"

I raised a perturbed eyebrow in his direction, complete caought off guard by his sudden lack of tact and calm.

"You just don't get it, do you son?!" He ranted, slowly growing more and more exasperated as he spoke. "_This is the change you have been waiting for!_ The chance to make a _real_ difference in the war. _Far_ more of a difference than you would have _ever_ made while in normal stasis rotation!"

It was one thing to think those things, but to hear them put into words. I could scarcely contain my excitement as to the prospect of what he said.

He paused to stand up and began to aggressively pace around his office, gesturing furiously as he raved. "What we are offering goes far beyond even that though. We are _offering_ to give you back something _you_ lost. To be one of the first people on the planet, to recieve genetic modifications. With this new tech, we can heal and make your eyes good as new! We can not only repair your legs but make them stronger than ever! These changes wont just heal you, they will also make you stronger and faster than anyone else on the battlefield!"

He paused mid-speech, glancing in my direction to make sure I was following what he was explaining, before powering onwards once more. "And it dosent even stop there! Imagine rifles that practically aim themselves! Armor that can tank point-blank grenades with ease! Ships you only thought were prototypes! We will not only give you your body back, but also give you weapons, equitment, training and resources that you can only _dream_ of! All that we ask of you is that you be a man, and serve us to the fullest extent of your capabilities. That you help us retake our planet!"

I sat in my chair completely shocked. Here was the most composed and seemingly distrustful man I had ever met, delivering a charasmatic speech worthy of a Oscar, and practically begging me to help him do exacly what I had always dreamed of doing. The way he spoke of the contract, this was an offer only a total dunce would refuse.

And I am no dunce.

Hardening my gaze, my mind set on a decision, I reached across the desk for the pen that sat on the Commander's desk, and set about filling the last space on the document with my signature.

My signature. There it sat, along side the presidents, and almost ever major government and military leader in the world. It was truly a sight to behold.

Taking the document form me, the_ Commander_ motioned for me to stand. He reached out and grasped my hand, gratitude etched across his face as he shook. "Thank you, Private. Thank you for your sacrifice".

His choice of words confused me, but I wrote them off as the products of this exhausting ordeal, and shook his hand in return, thanking him profusely for the chance to serve.

Soon enough, I was standing outside his office with Lockdown beside me, and a completely exhausted brain demanding that we find some place to sleep for possibly the next week.

I glance towards Lock, taking in her rigid posture and neutral expression once more. Her eyes were glassed over, and it looked like her mind was a million miles away at that moment.

"Hey. Earth to Lock?"

"It's _Sergeant_ to you Private!" She snapped back without even looking in my direction, before turning on her heel and marching away from me at a startling speed.

Shaking my head a few times to clear the confusion that had seeped into it, I wrote the inccedent off as just her lashing out due to our fatigued state, before turning and jogging after her, in hope she was headed to our bunks.

Soon enough, we arrived at our destination. A small room fernished, with nothing more than a desk, a small night stand and a rather comfortable looking bed.

"These are your quarters," she explained almost mechanically, before motioning to the room across from mine, "And that's mine. Sleep for as long as you need, then come find me. Your training starts tomorrow."

Without giving me a chance to respond, she turned once again, opened the door to her room and all but slammed it shut.

"Huh," I muttered, entering my new quarters, and closing the door behind me in a much quieter manner than my new Sergeant.

My duffel bag was thankfully sitting beside the door, obviously dropped off her by either Lisa or some grunt during my meeting with the_ Commander_. However my rifle and combat gear were missing. I would have to ask Lock about that in the morning.

Unable to properly stand any more, and with exaustion quikcly setting in, I quickly stripped down to nothing but my underwear, and made my way over to the bed. The covers proving to be just as comfortable as they looked, as I laid down for the night.

Unsurprisingly, I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.


	9. Chapter 9

**Welcome back loyal readers**

**A heads up, this chapter is a lot of set up so please prepare yourself for a lot of information and "important to the plot later" shit.**

**That said, a big old thank you again to my Beta reader XABIAR who with out i would be horribly lost and unable to put out chapters as quick as I have**

**Hope you enjoy and remeber**

**PLEASE LEAVE REVIEWS! I NEED TO KNOW HOW PEOPLE THINK THINGS ARE PROGRESSING AND WHAT YOUR THOUGHTS ARE IF I AM TO IMPROVE! (that or follow or favorite... that works to) **

**RIGHT onward to the story **

* * *

**Wednesday, May 4th, 2024**

**1130 Hours**

Being a military man, there are few things that I am completely sure of. Decisions, regrets, and questions like _"Is there a god?"_ _"What is the meaning of life_?" or _"Why the aliens decided to invade Earth?"_ They constantly plague me before sleep takes over for the rest of the night, making for a very unhappy and grumpy Drew most mornings.

Which is why, if there is one thing though that I can state with absolute certainty, it's that XCOM made a damn good choice when it came to selecting these beds for their base.

Granted, after years of sleeping on nothing, but the disjointed piles of wood and blankets that The _Global Resistance_ passed off as beds, I'm not exactly the toughest person to please. Still, last night's rest was without a doubt the best sleep I'd had in months, possibly years.

And don't get me started on what it was like, waking up without back pains and the sounds of trumpets sounding directly in my ear. God, I don't think I had been that happy in the morning, since that one time in high school when I didn't wake up alone.

Needless to say, I took my sweet time getting up. I slowly stretched upwards while beginning to stand, enjoying the feeling of my joints slowly popping and cracking one by one, releasing any built-up tension within them as I stretched myself higher and higher, eventually reaching the apex of the starfish-esque stretch, and letting my arms fall to my side with a very relaxed sigh.

Yah, a guy could get used to this kind of morning.

Casually making my way over to my duffel bag, I began the tedious process of attempting to extract fresh clothing from the worn out, zippered, mess of a bag; making sure to retrieve and carefully fold yesterdays BDU, from the floor as I went, just in case it was needed again soon.

After only a few minutes of struggle, and finally managing to extract a light tan t-shirt and a pair of surplus pants from the bag, it was unceremoniously stuffed under my bed where it would no doubt stay for the remainder of my stay.

"Should probably replace that at some point", I muttered to no one as I continued to prepare myself for the trials ahead, lacing up my boots extra tight, and ensuring my outfit was free of stains before daring to leave the room.

Soon enough, I was ready. Sort of. A final glance around my new room confirmed there was, in fact, nothing more to be done here, meaning it was finally time to face her again.

A rather large satisfied sigh escaped me as I slowly made my way out of my new room, then across the hall to Lock's room.

Feeling a bit friskier than yesterday, I made sure to pound the door extra cheerfully in hopes some of my good mood would wear off on her.

Long story short, it didn't work.

_Creak_

The grumpiest, most murderous, bloodshot eyes peeked out from behind the crack that the door had opened. Lock had evidently not gotten even close to as good a night of a sleep as I had.

"Oh, it's you", she remarked dryly, swinging the door open to reveal her and her room, not that I really took notice of the room.

Clad in nothing but a sports bra and spandex work shorts, with sweat still gleaming in the dim light of the room, she was even more intimidating wearing this outfit than her BUD. Though that was more due to the absurd level of fitness she displayed than anything else.

Taut and toned, muscle wrapped itself around every part of her body. Her arms looked tough enough to strangle a sectoid, her legs could probably bench the entire base, and she rocked a six pack that would put even the most hardened body builder to shame. She was the absolute definition of compact and lethal beauty.

"Took your sweet time getting up," she growled, turning around to slip a light brown t-shirt and cargo pants on as she spoke.

I blinked a few times at her, subconsciously clearing my head, before carefully responding. "I apologize, Sergeant. I didn't mean to take your words last night literally."

She let out an audible sigh before grabbing a rather large watch from her night stand and making her way over to me.

"Alright, listen up," she stated, my instant snap to attention at her words doing little to quell the annoyed expression that now mired her face.

"This operation hinges on you not _only_ becoming as _physically_ capable as me, but also _mentally_ conditioning yourself to think and act in a similar manner to me," she paused to make sure I was following her train of thought, "That _will not happen_ if you continue to treat me as a superior to you. So for the sake of the mission, _knock that shit off_!"

As expected, I was woefully unprepared for that kind of brutally honest statement this early in the morning, managing only a weak nod before hesitantly pulling myself out of my "at attention" posture and leaning back casually against the doorframe.

A small pat on the cheek was my reward.

"Much better," she encouraged mockingly, walking calmly past me and down the adjoining hallway.

I rolled my eyes at the back of her head before quickly jogging to catch up, watching her carefully as she wound her way through the hallways with incredible ease.

Soon enough, we found ourselves walking through a large pair of doubled doors, and into a vast, table filled auditorium. Which, judging by the abundance of various dishes, the multitudes of different people, and the divine smells wafting from all corners of the room, was probably the mess hall.

It was of course at that moment when my body decided to quite loudly remind me I had not eaten a single thing since breakfast. Yesterday.

A light chuckle from the woman beside me, confirmed that it was, in fact, loud enough for others to hear.

"Seems like someone's hungry," she jabbed lightly, before making her way towards a small line up near the center of the room, and grabbing tray.

I wordlessly followed, my mouth watering in anticipation as various foods were dropped unceremoniously onto my tray in quick succession; creating a multi-colored blob of delicious smelling, nutritious goodness.

Quickly taking a seat at the nearest empty table, I all but fell onto my food. Eating it as quickly and efficiently as possible, while ignoring pretty much everything else until I had scraped up the last few bites up and wiped the tray clean.

By the time I was done, Lock, who had only finished about half of her meal, was sporting a rather confused and amused grin. "Do you even take time to breath when you eat?" She questioned, methodically eating her way through each portion of her meal bit by bit as she spoke.

I flashed her as large of a smile as possible. "Usually I eat a little slower," I explained, watching patiently as she finished her third meal portion. "But not by much."

A non-committal _hum_ was her only response, as little by little her food was whittled away.

Soon enough our trays were handed back to the dish crew, and we were off again, weaving through the maze of underground tunnels that made up the complex at a pace that left little room to talk or discuss much of anything.

Our destination this time? The training center. A massive open area, nearly three times to size of the mess hall that encompassed everything a solider needed to train up to, then maintain, peak fitness levels. Rock climbing walls, full machine and free weights setups, obstacle courses, hand-to-hand combat mats, a full sized pool _and_ a full sized running track. Hell, they even had a live fire range and holographic simulation deck available for use.

One look was enough to tell me just how much I would be seeing this room in the coming months, and just how much pain I was going to be in for the rest of my stay here.

"Alright Private, _form up__!_"

I nearly pissed myself in surprise at the level of intensity Lock's voice could be instilled with, before reacting purely off of the instincts created from years of basic training, and snapping hasty to attention.

"Alright," she stated calmly, pacing back and forth in front of me. "Here's the deal. The genetic modifications that you will be receiving will have several major effects on your body. Most of these effects are physical enhancements to your strength and speed, however, they can vary depending on the person. As such, it is my job to prepare you for the coming changes to the best of my abilities. Understand?"

"Yes, Ma..." I thankfully stopped myself before the sentence was complete. "_Lock_."

A sly grin cracked its way onto her face at my almost-mistake. "Close," she acknowledged, her grin ever widening. "But no cigar. Seems we will be starting with the obstacle course today!"

Deep in the pit of my stomach, I knew that whatever she had planned for me would not be pleasant.

I hate being right, and before you ask, yes, I am unfortunately right a lot of the time.

The obstacle course, as it turned out, wasn't that difficult. It was actually very similar to the course most basic training barracks have set up, complete with nets and high walls. What made this one different, however, was the fact it was that the majority of the course was suspended twenty feet above the room's pool, and all that stretched between the between the obstacle and the watery grave below you, were a couple of very thin metal walkways. Walkways that swayed dangerously as you crossed them, dooming you to fall if you made so much as one misstep. Needless to say, complete and utter focus was required to safely navigate the course successfully.

Focus, which was extremely hard to maintain due to the constant threat of a paintball pegging me if I slowed from the allowed pace. Yah, as it turns out, her threat of using me as target practice wasn't complete bullshit.

Three hours, about fifty paintballs to various body parts, and a record _three_ competitions. None of which were even close to fast enough times mind you, and I was all but limping my humiliated ass out of the training room with Lock in tow.

"Oh come on," she chuckled, patting my shoulder ever so patronizing as she walked past me. "I'm sure you will get the hang of it eventually."

"Yah?" I growled out, hobbling after her. "Well, I bet it would have been a lot easier if the person behind the gun wasn't also the best shot on the _planet_!"

Flashing me that aggravating, coy smile of hers, she simply shrugged in response before cheerfully making her way towards our next destination, which as it turned out, was not more training facilities but a rather small laboratory.

"Welcome to the Physical Health Monitoring Center," she announced dramatically as we entered, gesturing grandly towards the computer and metal pod that stood in an otherwise bear white room. "Or PHMC for short".

"Actually, it's called the Physical Health Omni Sensor Chamber," came a rather irked voice from behind me.

A quick one eighty, and I was met with the sight of the most stereotypical lab assistant I had ever met. Tall and lanky, wearing dress pants, a fresh white lab coat and even thick rimmed glasses, this kid looked like he was a fresh graduate of some bigwig medical school. Hell, he even had one of those weird clipboards that you see scientists use all the time in movies.

"I presume, you are Private Drew L .Crawford?" He quipped, barely looking up from his notes while he spoke.

"Um, yes?" I replied, confused as to why he knew who I was, and what he was doing here.

"Ah, excellent," he continued, ignoring my confusion completely as he made his way to the computer, slipping into the chair behind it with a practiced ease. "Alright, as _Lockdown_ has no doubt already explained to you, I will be your Medical Management Specialist, or if that's too much for you, MMS." He stated almost mechanically as he quickly began to work away on the computer before him. "My name is Doctor Matt McGonaghue. Now I'll ask you to please remove any wet articles of clothing and step into the pod so we may begin."

Much to his apparent displeasure, I instead stood rooted in place, as my brain tried to process exactly what was going on, and what this guy was going on about. MMS? What sorcery had _Lockdown_ forgotten to inform me of?

A tired sigh could be heard from Matt, as he finally took note of my confused expression. "Of course she didn't explain anything, did she?" He muttered, glaring at Lock with obvious distaste.

"Alright Drew, allow me to get you up to speed," he stated, swiveling around to stare me straight in the eyes.

"Due to the unstable nature of genetic modification, and the numerous physical changes that will occur during your procedure, it is imperative we maintain a complete log of your entire physical structure and health so as to minimize any complications with the procedure."

He paused momentarily to ensure I was keeping up with him before continuing on with his ramble. "With this information, we can also create an accurate prediction model of how and where the gene modding will have the most effects, and thus help you better prepare for your procedure. This is very essential as we can also use this information to tailor your training and physical structure to better handle the changes".

With the main part of the explanation out of the way, he quickly swiveled back to work at his computer. "The machine I'm currently setting up is called a Omni sensor," he explained as his fingers went to work on the keyboard in front of him. "It's basically an XRAY, C.A.T. Scan, ultrasound and molecular imagining module all rolled into one. It will give us a full digital record of everything about your body, as well as image every part of you so as to create a three dimensional model for our bio engineer's to work with."

He finally finished his typing, and turned to me once again. "The imaging can't be done properly with any form of liquid in the way. It messes with the sensors. So now, if you would be so kind, please remove any and all garments that are wet."

I glanced down at my soaking wet clothes, before sending Lock my best glare.

"What's the matter Drew?" She teased from her position by the door. "Surely a big, strong man like you wouldn't be embarrassed with little old me seeing what you're literally made of?"

Her shrewd smile only confirmed what I already suspected.

Lesson learned. Never call Lock _Ma'am_.

Ever.


	10. Chapter 10

**HELLO welcome welcome, have a seat.**

**So. About that election eh? Hope this chapter gets your mind off that for a little**

**Also sorry about the wait. This was a tricky one to write and I didn't want it to feel incomplete so yah**

**THANK YOU for the reviews. They really really do help, and I appreciate hearing from everyone what they think, so PLEASE KEEP THAT SHIT UP**

**Anyways Onwards to the story**

* * *

**Wednesday, May 4th, 2024**

**2230 ****Hours**

I have always been of the opinion that physical pain is much easier to deal with than mental pain. Most days I would happily take a complete ass-kicking over having to deal with even a small, emotional, gut wretch.

Of course, as was quickly becoming her MO, Lock decided today was a good day to show me that maybe it was time to re consider that thought process. _How_? You might ask? By putting me through a physical stress test, the likes of which I had hadn't experienced since Hell Week.

It began shortly after Doctor McGonaghue had finished with his scans, starting with some rather innocent and light warm ups and stretches, before escalating straight into a full body strength testing reign.

Once Lock had finished mercilessly extracting every ounce of energy from my limbs, it was apparently time to test and see how up to snuff my hand to hand combat skills were. Which is the polite way of saying she decided to beat the ever-living shit out of me for an hour or two.

After she was finished soundly beating me about twelve times in a row, it was finally time for the endurance portion of the exam. Which while simple in explanation, was quite frankly the most torturous twenty minutes of my life. A four mile game of cat and mouse, with dear old Lock setting the pace. Inhuman would be the best way to describe it really, as despite doing a similar amount of physical work to me, Lockdown's energy reserves appeared to be limitless. Hell, she barely looked out of breath afterwards.

Then it was back to strength training and the obstacle course. Thankfully this time she didn't bring out the gun, opting instead to make me re-run the course every single time I failed to complete an exercise or number of reps.

Her next decision was, however, a bit questionable. After hours of intense and draining physical work, it was apparently time to test my rifle skills, or rather my apparent lack of them as she started.

After dozens of misses, a series of multiple position shooting drills, and at least four different breaches of firearms safety due to exhaustion, it seemed she was satisfied for the day and dismissed me.

Or did I just black out? Can't really remember.

Either way, next thing I knew I was back in my room, physically aching, tired beyond reason, mentally drained, and just a _tad_ bit pissed off.

_Why_ was I pissed off you might ask? One word: Lockdown.

Lockdown was by _far_ the single most frustrating part of the day. It wasn't the workouts or the drills she assigned either that got me riled up like this either, it was the fact that she had completed most of the training right there alongside me.

No, completed is not the right word. She decimated it. Outstripping me on each exercise with such ease and fluidity, as if this was her daily routine. Leaving me once again to either work harder to try and keep up, or to simply spend all my time watching her lap me again and again. To say it was an absolutely humiliating experience would be an understatement.

Seriously! Just who the actually fuck _was_ she? Her behavior was inconsistent to say the least, her expressions so devoid of any consistency it was impossible to get a read on her, and her actions all pointed towards her being someone who simply reveled in others suffering. Namely my own.

Yet all the same, her smiles seemed genuine and she commanded the respect of those around her despite her outbursts. Something was clearly going on with her, and yet not a single person questioned her mental state. It was unnerving how disassociated she seemed to be from everyone around her.

I mentally groaned, as my head began to throb from a combination of dehydration and information overload. She gave me too much to sift through, to many thoughts to analyze, and had become far too complex a problem to solve in one night.

Boots, pants and shirt hit the floor one after the other as I slowly made my way over to my bed, biting back a pained moan, as my back hit the immensely comfortable mattress of my bed.

With the physical exhaustion quickly setting in, it was impossible not to just let sleep take over and pass out right then. Soon black was all I could see, and soon after that, nothing at all.

* * *

I awoke to the smell of blood.

It coated my uniform, and bubbled out of the wounds in my legs, spewing out more and more, no matter how much pressure I put on the wound.

Fiery pain ripped thought my body with each passing second, earning a piercing scream from me each time my body shivered or moved even a miniscule amount.

Corpses littered the ground around me, blank faced and unmoving as they laid there in the mud. Blood still dripping out from their obviously lethal wounds.

A cracking sound drew my attention to one of the corpses, as his head turned at an unnatural angle just to stare me straight in the eyes.

"Just couldn't save them could you?" It laughed, pointing what remained of its arm towards the corpses behind me. "Look at what remains of your family, Drew, look at what remains of your _life_."

My head turned on its own accord, giving me a full view of the graveyard behind me. Showing me the bloody mess of limbs and familiar faces staring back at me.

"Stop it," I gasp out, hearing the corpse behind me laughing even harder.

"Stop it!" A little louder this time, as the howls of laughter filtered through me.

"_I said stop it!_!"

* * *

My body instinctively bolted up, nearly throwing me off the bed altogether in my haste. I felt a cold sweat break out, and my lungs begin to heave as my body continued to be ravaged by the panic and response that the night terror had elicited from me.

Night terrors. They tell you about them in therapy sessions once in a while, explaining a lot of their effects and how to handle them. No one can prepare you for the actual event though.

To feel like you're dying or forced to relive your most traumatizing memories again and again. To wake up screaming and scared, for your mind to be unable to even realize everything's ok until much later.

It's a fate I wouldn't wish upon anyone. Not Lockdown, not my enemies, no one.

Taking a deep breath, I attempted to focus entirely on slowing my own breathing down as much as possible.

Rhythmic breathing as they call it, was one such exercise therapists show you as a way to control the fear that takes over your body. Ten seconds in, ten seconds out, ten seconds in, ten seconds out. Repeat the cycle until you feel back in control. Simple and surprisingly effective, it was my go-to exercise in the event of night terrors.

Soon enough, the shaking stopped. Not long after, I began to feel back in control. It was a slow process, but eventually I felt back to normal. Well, as normal as things get I suppose.

Though I knew from experience that the chances of me getting any more sleep tonight were as good as zero.

That left me with two choices. Lay lethargically in bed until it was finally time to get up and get my ass kicked by Lock again, or get up right now and attempt to do something to help get my mind off the dream.

Something mind numbing and mentally exhausting preferably. Something that would take a long time and keep me occupied until morning.

Something like, say, mapping out the strange and massive complex that I found myself in.

I grinned a little at that thought. I had been meaning to explore a little after all.

With a goal in mind, I began the long process of getting out of bed and dressing myself as quietly as possible. I slipped out of my room as quietly as possible with my notebook and pen in hand.

Flipping to a new page and beginning a small sketch of the hallway, I made my way away from the rooms, walking with a slow deliberate pace. My mind was quickly consumed by the task at hand as I slowly sketched my way forwards.

I didn't notice the security guards who looked at me funny, or the scientists who attempted to check out what I was doing.

Nor did I notice a certain white haired Sergeant as she left her own room, a troubled expression of her own arched across her face.


End file.
